


The Bombay Thieves

by VioFanFic



Category: The Bombay Thieves
Genre: Cat, Curses, Fantasy, Feline, First work - Freeform, Industrial Revolution, Magic, Partners in Crime, Stealing, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, Thief, Witches, industrial era, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:30:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioFanFic/pseuds/VioFanFic
Summary: The Bombay Thieves is a small side-project based around the stories and bonding of a thieving boy under the alias of Joey Martins and a pestering cat who may not be as feline as they come across. Thieving doesn't come without risks of being, almost, caught and possible blackmail.Note: Bombay is referring to the kind of cat





	1. The Haywoods

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a side-project for me as me and my friend work on a graphic novel called Project Pangaea. I'm not a good writer, i'm a better artist who doesn't have to write out everything so i'm not sure how this will be but I hope you enjoy it.

    The night air was cold and biting, enough to penetrate through wool and cotton. Snow hadn't fallen and even if it had, it wouldn't stick to the ground much if it all. It was winter, a time when food seemed to be scarce, people didn't walk along the stone-brick streets of London this late at night. Many hid in the comforts of home, wrapped in blankets or near the stove if it was too cold. However, for the few people that were out, were likely up to no good and that, is exactly, what the hooded figure taking the dark alleyways was up to.  
    While the man walked normally down the alley, he'd made careful steps at every corner. Quiet except for the stinging wind as it hit his face, the scurrying of rats, mice, and cats, the fluttering of bird wings as they flew off. Many windows were dark, not a sign of life or even a candle's fame flickering. Even with no signs of life and all making perfect places, the figure already had a set street and numbered house to head to, a place with people he knew would have the objects he was looking for.  
    He'd planned this out for a couple weeks now, walking along the street many times a day to watch when the head of house, a man with the last name of Haywood, arrived and left, what time the candles blew out. It appeared that two others lived in the house, a wife and a boy about his age. At this hour, everyone was asleep and Mr. Haywood wouldn't be up and leaving for another five hours- eight o'clock.  It was a perfect time to break the lock,  _if_  it was locked, but surely a man with the amount of money Mr. Haywood has they'd lock their doors.  
    The figure turned down the street, walking near the side of the housing units as he read the numbers from the corner of his eyes.  _122, 124, 126... 128._  There it was. He stopped, turning his figure to face the door with the golden-shiny numbering. The street was quiet, no foot steps hitting the stone or loud breathing. Safe, perfect.   
    With visible breath, the figure muttered. "Alright, down to business..."  
  
     **Pop!**  The lock gave-way loudly and out of practice, he went quiet and didn't move, straining to listen for any sounds of movement or the lighting of a candle. Nothing. Quiet. Good, that was good... The door when being opened slowly, creaked, so he tried moving it quicker which seemed to make the squeak much quieter. That was ideal. He kept the door open, he didn't want to make excess noise. The first room was more like two rooms in one.  
    A love-seat sat in front of the fire place, a nice, shiny wooden table between the two objects. A singular chair was next to the couch. The fireplace was lined with brick and a small metal "fence" in front of where the wood would be placed. To the far end of the room, there was a stove and a place to put their dishes. Plates, bowls, forks, spoons, knives, and glass cups. He placed a bet that the silverware was actually silver. That wasn't what he was after though... He was sure that the best items were in their rooms, but there was bound to be valuables in drawers too.  
    Light footing was key, he couldn't risk the squeaky floors. He couldn't breathe loudly, he couldn't knock anything over out of panic, he had to be steady but quick. If he was caught with anything in this home, he'd be thrown into a cell faster than a cat runs from an out-of-control house.   
    Near the stairs, a nice dresser laid. "Jackpot." He whispered, making his way over and pulling and slightly lifting the first drawer. To the right, letters with a heavy rock laying on top. Next to it, closed bottles of ink. All the way to the left, there was a little bit of money. Possibly money they saved for postage fees and it'd be noticeable if it was gone, maybe... Maybe they'd figure they'd sent too many letters and forgot to re-stock. He wasn't sure, but he didn't care too much either. Money was money and if it bought him even just a piece of food, it was good enough.  
  
    The bottom drawer contained blank papers, fresh, new bottles of ink, and envelopes. Nothing else sadly. Would any jewelry for the wife be upstairs? The large amounts of money? The thoughts were replaced by alarm as something rubbed across his leg and he instinctively kicked his leg a bit as he looked down.  
    A black, sleek figure stared up at him with large yellow eyes. It showed no alarm, it didn't meow or hiss. It didn't even wack at him. Instead, it almost gave him a friendly look. "Psst!" He hissed through his teeth, waving a hand at the creature. In retaliation, the creature stood up and made quick light jumps up the nearby stairs. Shit shit. Surely the creature wasn't intelligent enough to alert the owners or at least he hoped it wasn't. But, with some of the strange things he'd encountered in his... travels, he didn't completely dismiss it.  
  
    He figured this must be cut short as he closed the drawer, made a quick walk to the kitchen and grabbed a few of the silver forks and spoons, shoving them into the bag he had tied to his waist. Alright, time to jump this place. Upon turning around, there was the cat standing on the back of the love seat, staring directly at him. It was creepy. What was with this cat? When he walked by it as he made his way to the open door, he watched it and gave it a nod as he put a foot out the door. Unexpectedly, the black cat jumped down onto the floor and ran out the door before he could shut it.  
    "Hey! Psst, back inside!" He whispered, moving his foot to try and shove the cat back inside but it would persist and eventually, the hooded figure decided it wasn't his cat and it wasn't worth his time what so ever. "Fine, sleep out in the cold." Not like it wasn't still cold inside, it was just even more cold out here, in the open.  
  
    He swore he had walked down three different alley ways now and the cat was still on his heels, tail up with an almost smug expression. He knew he'd told the cat a couple times now to scram, but it just wouldn't!  
  
  
    Okay, now this was a bit much. The boy stood in front of his door, waving his hand at a cat that wasn't his own and it just sat there, looking up at him! There was no way in hell he was letting that cat in his house around his, not very valuable, stuff. "Scram, pest!" He growled, loudly now. He wasn't near his targets home so it wasn't that much of a liability.  
  
  
    Okay, whatever... It was in his house now. Just.. laying on his bed. This was fine.


	2. Unwanted Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short, sorry about that.

    It was the morning after. There was unlikely to be any news about his theft as he only took a minimal amount of coins and a couple things of silverware. However, maybe the Haywoods were highly dramatic. He wasn't sure. He didn't pay attention to the newspaper much and didn't have enough people to gossip with unless he found himself at a pub. In personal news though, the cat was still lounging around his house, mostly near the food storage. Was it wanting him to feed it? Because if so, it was gonna be a no. He had already woke up that morning to the thing laying on top of him.  
    He had put the coins in his stash of money and the silverware next to it, reminding himself to sell it later down the road for some extra.  
  
    Then, the cat started meowing.  _Loudly._  God, what did it want? "What?!" He yelled, throwing his hands outward. He himself was a quiet person, he didn't like a lot of noise so the racket of a cat wasn't ideal. The animal shut up. Not a feared look or even a normal look, it looked proud as it caught the boys attention. With strange grace, it stood up, tailed hooked over its back as it strode to the closed door of the food storage. A single meow came from the cat. "No, you are not mine," He told it, "go back home, they'll feed you." Silence.  
  
 _ **MROWW!**  
_  
    "God, you're annoying!" The boy hissed, hands hovering of his ears. "Fine, I'll feed you but it won't be whatever expensive crap the Haywoods gave you." He mumbled, opening the door and shoving a few things out of the way. What was the cheapest thing he owned that wouldn't kill the cat? Anything he kept in here was bread or vegetable that didn't require to be stuck in the icebox. Maybe the thing would eat a bit of bread, it was bound to go bad soon anyway. Pulling the bit he had left, he broke it in half and placed it on the counter where the cat now stood proudly on. "There."  
    Thankfully, the animal wasn't a loud eater which allowed him to have some quiet as he made his own food or, got his own food. Carrots. They were fairly cheap to buy and didn't taste terrible or have no taste at all. Sure, maybe he didn't buy the best carrots in the market, but they weren't rotting either.   
    He sighed. He'd have to get water today at some point and buy more bread, so maybe he'd do that soon.  _And maybe that cat will leave too._  He wanted the cat out and sure, he could pick it up and try to throw it out but he wasn't risking getting scratched by an animal known for having infectious scratches. His gloves weren't thick, they were thin and only used because it seemed to be quieter than using his hands for things. That and, well... once he attempted to grab something and it burnt, likely some sort of witches spell.  
      
  
    Minutes went by until breakfast was down and gone. The cat went to cleaning itself and the boy was looking for enough coins to buy bread before he opened his door and looked back at the cat. "Well, if you're going to be staying here for awhile, you might as well know my name. I'm Joey, Joey Martins." He finished his sentence as he shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we'll end it there. Next chapter will be out soon or whenever I feel like it I guess.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 is already out lol


End file.
